


Utility

by bigstupidjellyfish



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Mentions of Prowl, just a bunch of people drinking together and making horrible innudendos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigstupidjellyfish/pseuds/bigstupidjellyfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Cybertronian’s life is an eternal game of Tetris, and other tales from Swerve’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Utility

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for verit for putting up with my moderately bad English and thanks for copannan for letting me implement some of our conversations into this silly thing.

According to Swerve, his bar was the true heart of Lost Light. Occasionally, Atomizer or Bluestreak, depending on who was helping him at the bar at this moment, readily confirmed this statement.  
They all were right. The crew came to Swerve’s to relax, discuss the issues that hurt, celebrate what didn't hurt and let off some steam. Frankly, Swerve was horrified by how many shootings were involved into the process of letting off the steam - it shouldn't be _that_ surprising, considering who was on the crew roster, really - and he was a little relieved to see a loud, but entirely harmless party that gathered close to the center of the room. _Harmless for now_ , the bartender reminded himself to pay attention, delivering fresh drinks to the company.

The party consisted of new and old crewmembers alike: Riptide, Nautica, Skids, Smokescreen, Getaway, Trailcutter were present. And Swerve himself, though he didn't drink. Technically, he was on duty, and he had no desire to be reprimanded by Ultra Magnus for drinking in the bar, no matter how ridiculous he found the thought.

There were other people in the bar, too, though they didn't join they big company - either came here to have a drink alone, like Ratchet, or they were satisfied with their own little company, like Tailgate and Cyclonus.

What was the reason for the celebration again? Swerve somehow failed to notice it, if you don't count Riptide's shouting "It's been a month, and Megatron is still our captain, I need a drink" while standing on a table. The hydrobot was shooed from the furniture, but he definitely set the mood: the mechs were getting drunk like they wanted to forget about the world.

The bartender found both serving and observing this company entertaining. Riptide dared try Nautica's special and now was making "dying hydrobot noises" as he called it while the submarine apologized to him in her adorable way (who knew people could apologize adorably?). Smokescreen was making a terribly believable impression of Prowl. Getaway was hanging onto Skids, constantly hitting his partner in the chin and telling him about some mission they were on together.

Swerve noticed that Getaway placed his drink with a swirly straw on Skids' chest.

"Hey, escapologist-slash-codebreaker!" He called.

"You forgot "slash-marksman", Getaway immediately answered. He craned his neck to sip on his drink, holding a straw with two fingers. And not taking it off Skids. Swerve admitted to himself that he was a little disturbed by this sight, though he couldn't tell the exact reason.

"You... placed your glass on Skids", he pointed out the obvious.

Getaway seemed excited. Again.

"Yeah, it's amazing, right? You can hire him as a bartender, he wouldn't even need a tray!" 

To prove his point, he put Riptide's drink onto Skids' chest plate, too. Skids didn't object and looked very, very peaceful. Possibly just drunk. Swerve was disturbed even more. Riptide lifted his head and blinked, wondering where his glass disappeared.

"So... you do this thing often?" Swerve immediately thought that he might regret this question. Even his curiosity had limits.

Unfortunately, Getaway was in the mood to share.

"Yes, his chest is very comfy, right, partner?"

Skids tried to catch the straw of Getaway's drink, failing. He raised his finger and said:

"Correction. He doesn't usually put objects on it," whatever Skids wanted to say next didn't follow because Getaway helped him put the straw in his mouth. Swerve thought he needed to clear his fuel tanks from corrosion. He didn't need to ask anything else.

"What does he put there then?" Trailcutter said, utterly confused. He bravely protected his glass from Getaway attempting to snatch it and put it on Skids, too.

"Himself," Skids shut his optics, sipping on the drink blissfully.

"Dear Caminus," Nautica said, hiding her face behind her visor and giggling.

Riptide cocked his head to the left side, staring on Skids. Then - to the right side.

"What, he sits there and you ride him like that? Can't he walk normally?" He asked, shaking his head in confusion.

Swerve was torn between the urge to cut off his audiofeed and listen more attentively.

"After sitting on his chest, I usually can't walk normally for some time," Getaway grinned at him. He successfully stole Smokescreen's drink and even his plate with sliced energon cubes.

Nautica shook with laughter. Other mechs looked at her oddly.

"I don't understand," Riptide complained.

"Please-don't-ask-them-to-explain!" Swerve said urgently. Riptide squinted suspiciously. He didn't like it when his rare thirst for knowledge was suppressed.

"Explain!"

Everybody, except for Nautica and Swerve, looked at them with sincere curiosity. Smokescreen placed his hand on his chest warily.

"In order to get comfy, he needs to place his legs on my shoulders," Skids explained. His chest was littered with glasses and plates now.

"Yeah, that's how I ride him," Getaway cheerfully added.

Swerve could see the gears working inside their heads in realization. One by one, it hit them.

"With his crotch against your face? That doesn't sound comfy to me," Riptide said critically. Swerve sighed. The hydrobot really wasn't one of the brightest.

Nautica laughed again and, putting her arm around Riptide's neck, started whispering something to him. Riptide's expression changed from confusion to horror, then back to confusion. He looked at Skids' in disbelief. Nautica patted him on his head sympathetically.

The spies didn't seem notice that banter as they were distracted by Smokescreen's cries of anguish.

"You wanna say that Blue and I are... _comfy_ in that way, too?"

"Only if you're into that," Getaway looked at the variety of drinks before him. He took the one Riptide was drinking. Or was it Hound's? How did his drink even end here?

"That means that Prowl is comfy as well," Swerve said. Everybody looked at him. "What? Just saying."

"Damn. You're right," Getaway said. "No wonder he banished every competitor from Cybertron."

"Ultra Magnus looks comfy," Nautica suggested.

"Isn't he sorta flat?" Traiclutter asked. Swerve felt a little surreal with the way everybody was discussing each other's body parts and their utility. He was used for all kinds of conversations at the bar, but it didn't mean he didn't want to bleach his brain module with the whole tank of engex at once on some days.

"You're confusing him with Megatron! Megatron is flat," Nautica said heatedly.

"Magnus has this thing," Skids placed his hands before him, almost knocking off all glasses. "How is this thing called?"

"Thingy."

"Doohickey."

"Nobody knows what's it called? Seriously?"

"I don't remember him having anything on his chest! I'm gonna go check-"

"Teebs, no!"

The party was lively with entertaining discussion. Swerve thought that maybe it wasn't that bad. Nobody was shooting or breaking furniture.

Riptide was still processing the information he heard from Nautica, refraining from participating out of embarrassment. He noticed that Getaway was staring at him, whispering something to Skids.  
"What are you looking at?" he asked immediately.

"Nothing!" Getaway said. He tilted his head. "Damn shame you're kinda flat, though. And your shoulders are unclimbable," he sighed.

Skids patted him on his hand and said:

"No worries, partner, we'll figure it out."

Riptide's mouth fell open. He needed his drink and, again, couldn't find it. He looked up at the spies and saw that Getaway was sipping from his glass, optics shining with obscene smirk.  
Swerve watched this banter. He sighed and left the table for refreshments, taking empty glasses and plates from Skids' chest. As soon as he reached the counter, he filled a clean glass with a high-grade - non-diluted - and drank it in one gulp. The bartender noticed Ultra Magnus entering the bar and laughed.


End file.
